Crosswise
by Peachtree
Summary: A story of betrayal on the rough streets of chicago set in the world of vampire the requeim.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue:

Lorimer watched the monster roll the quarter languidly down the expanse of the knuckles of it's left hand. Absently his right hand covered the smooth skinned stubs right at the top of the first knuckles of the last two fingers of his left. This wasn't lost on the monster though. it licked its lips and twisted the ends of its mouth into a smile.

"Missin' something sugar?"

Annabeth Walkes, or Anna-on-the-other-side-of-the-table, had asked over a public line, just after sundown to meet with the man in the low brimmed hat and delicate spectacles who was responsible for the deaths of Clarence Brinkhouse an investment banker by way of accidental suicide, as well as Dakota Reeves, an adult video heroine who died by way of velocity overdose over the side of a four story building. She wanted to meet him in a nice office complex in the central business district of Chicago. The Man in the Spectacles across the table from her would only meet in a shitty, run down ex-warehouse. She compromised. she would meet at the warehouse if she could troll with her a matching set of meat dressed up in show suits screaming to hold in the muscled underneath them. Security specialists, with guns just as large and impressive.

There was nothing impressive about the man in spectacles. He was tall but beaten down looking, in a parka that had been thoroughly searched for weapons. His hair was stringy and tied back. He wore a wide brimmed hat, and he had been responsible for more actual deaths in the last two years then the rest of the people in the room combined and adjusted for inflation.

"not nothing I wasn't glad to give up after considering the alternative." Lorimer pinched a bit of tobacco onto a rolling paper." but small talk aside, you did call me because you wanted me to do something for you right? not just toss quips at me because of some mysterious misfortune. " he twisted the paper in his fingers until it almost resembled a cigarette.

she exhaled heavily.

" I can' t believe there are still people that smoke, after all that shit came out about big tobacco it must be just you ."

" Me and that Marlboro guy, I guess . Anyways. It's just a cigarette. What's this thing?"

" little bit of work." she pinched the words out in front of her with her fingers. lorimer liked little visuals.

" you got my fee?" she nodded" then I guess that's that. Who are the contestants?"lorimer put the cigarette in mouth and pulled out a shiny lighter. he flicked the striker and Anne flinched, not a lot, just enough to tell lorimer what kind of bad he was sitting across from. He took a long drag from the cigarette. Two years ago lorimer didn't smoke, but he found that a steady supply of nicotine kept the suicide at bay.

" Trey Fischer, but on Chicago time lately they've been calling him Loki. and a guy that goes by Ambrose." her lips curved into a small smile.

Now normally this had meant that this Ambrose fellow and this Loki fellow where dead to rights. the man in the low brimmed hat had a certain reputation for Thoroughness as well as single minded determination that bordered on supernatural. But there where two pieces of information that the man in the spectacles but not Anna-on-the-other-side-of-the-table was privy to.

the first was that Anna's goons who were slightly homophobic had failed to search the area right next to lorimer's johnson for any backup weapons.

The second was that Lorimer had , that afternoon, fortuitously just before Anna's call, killed the man in the wide brimmed hat.


	2. Chapter 2

"Gotta love Fridays" Ambrose thought to himself as he stepped out of the one room shithole apartment on south Keeler right across the street from Piotrowski park. Solid residential block. and perhaps some of the crappiest feeding grounds in all of Cicero if you where the kind of fella who was looking for long pork. Ambrose wasn't.

The clouds were heavy and close, played purple across the sky. The moon moved in a pink direction as ambrose stepped out onto the the side walk outside his building. It was cold. he could feel that, so much as things like that didn't bother him anymore. he liked the autumn months though, it meant he could wear his scarf and not get any funny looks. It was a ragged old brown number that he wore tied around his face right above his nose. he supposed that it must make him look like those kids who pretended to be ninjas, but in the autumn months nobody paid that any mind, too busy getting out of the cold and inside. Anyways that was better then them seeing his face.

He tucked the ends of the scarf under an old World War II trench coat that had also been his favorite during his breathing days. It did a good job at hiding his dirty black trousers, but not his bright red converse all stars. In his mind, though, he pictured that he looked like a homeless Nick Blaine, all Casablanca. Minus the hat though. Ambrose hated hats.

As he crossed the street into the park Cash's _Witchita Lineman_ came off of an old Nova's stereo. he saw some young couple listening intently to the song with some young leatherclad turk trying to divine the meaning of the song to his lady friend. Ambrose felt the beast rise in the back of his throat. It wanted them to split their skin beneath his needle teeth. The edges of his vision flicked a sharp red. but he quickly pushed the hunger down and found himself standing stock still and looking at them. The Turk turned to Ambrose and his hand slid to something just out of sight under the dash. Ambrose upended his hands in the universal sign for I give up and turned into the park.

' No need to get into any trouble tonight.' He thought to himself.

The park smelled like wet grass and asphalt as his boots crunched against the grass. Piotrowski park was huge, with space for a baseball diamond and several tennis courts. Ambrose moved off to his favorite little corner of the park. This was one of the places people never went at night unless they were homeless and looking for a bench. Even then though it was few and far between. Poor maintenance had allowed several of the halogen lights that came on at night, to burn out. And a couple of the others were strategically busted . Ambrose found a nice empty dark corner of the park where there wouldn't be any prying eyes he nestled down against the dying bushes. He called his beast to the back of his throat. Reaching out with the instinctual part of his mind he let the beast echo the call into the night.

_"Food this way, boys."_

Ambrose always thought that this was a dirty trick, fooling the animals into coming to him. Still a good number of kindred would be jealous how easy he had it. Little eyes reflected the bare night at his eyes. The first of many hopefully.

"Aw, fuck." he said in his gravely voice.

It was a cat.

Ambrose _liked_ cats.

_"Do you have food?"_ the cat uttered, mewling, his beast reverberated the meaning in his mind. Ambrose saw the small collar around the cats neck, and the pressed steel ID tag. Ambrose took an unnecessary breath.

And sighed.

_" No. get out of here. go home." _Ambrose looked past the cat. Maybe there was a rabbit behind it or something.

_" I can't find home."_ the young cat replied.

Ambrose pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose and winced painfully. He moved over to the cat and looked at the cat's collar and thought to himself _'best fuckin' vampire ever, Ambrose.' _he flipped the id tag around and read it.

"_Kilgore eh." _The cat sat up and perked it ears.

The address on the ID tag was in north Cicero on the edge of the territory right next to Oak park. '_Well at least it's still early.'_ Ambrose stood up and began walking out of the bushes.

_"Come on... Kilgore... I'm gonna take you home... Godammit . "_

_"Home!" _the grey and black cat cocked his head and padded its way after Ambrose.

The two crossed the expanse of the park to the side opposite side. Ambrose picked Kilgore up and tucked the cat under his arm. He meandered next to the closest stop sign on South Kolin Avenue. There he waited at the stop sign just out of sight and pulled his scarf down. A set of headlights on the front end of a civic came to a stop. Ambrose moved form the Shadows out in front of it.

"GET OUT OF THE FUCKING CAR!" Ambrose bared his teeth and his teeth were a show stopper. A solid row of long needle-razors, they were all hideous sharp points, like bats teeth, set against pinkish grey gums. A gift from his Particular and infamous sire. The two teens in the car froze for a moment then hysterically tried getting out of the car. Ambrose maneuvered to the drivers side, pulled the door open and grabbed the driver out by a fistful of his hair. The other teen fell on himself getting out of the car. Ambrose put Kilgore on the passenger seat, then closed the door. He pointed two of his fingers at one of the teens like a gun, flexed his thumb and winked. then sped off into the night. Despite himself, he cracked a shark's smile two blocks down the way.

"Best fuckin' vampire ever, Ambrose, best Vampire _evar._"

Lord Samson Everett was late. The picture of Invictus success, Lord Samson Everett, childe of the Honorable Alder Julian Kinkade, had miss stepped and planned his evening around an unreasonable arrival time. Even now he was nervous, staring into his blurred reflection in the black windows of the stretched Lincoln as it maneuvered some esoteric pattern down familiar Chicago streets. Warming himself, willing the blood to life inside of his dead veins, then taking an unnecessary breath Lord Everett exhaled a fog over the glass. Forcing his hand steady, he drew an ouroboros, the devouring dragon, on the glass in a thick circle. He looked to the front seat where the driver James steered the car.

"If we are any more late, James, I'll have to geld you." Everett said "run the lights if you have to but I won't be any more late."

In the car a person could hear the cold in his voice, the steady cadence in the timber that spoke, no, assured others of his seriousness. James was convinced at least. If he knew the real reason why his master was so agitated James could at least attempt to put him at ease. Then be killed for the attempt.

The reason that Everett had been so agitated was that the pair was traveling to Oak Park and Lord Samson Everett , scion of Invictus, hated Oak Park. In the time that Everett had spent among the other kindred in the danse macabre there had only been two occasions that made Lord Everett feel small and diminished. The first was at the hands of his sire when he was still new mewling and ignorant. The second had been at the hands of the upstart rabble of the Carthians in Oak Park. The bastard that had been responsible was many years his elder, named Leon Faber. Faber was French Canadian ex-patriate. The embrace did nothing to curb his revolutionary tendencies. The cut throat politics of the undead, indeed, suited him well. He also had no small and uncertain hated for the first estate. He informed Everett of such one night nearly telepathically with his fists. Everett awoke a week later.

One day though, Everett would see the kindred of Oak Park driven form their havens, preferably under the light of the midday sun. After tonight that day would be one day closer.

Along the south end of Oak Park on the border of Cicero there are a row of old and new industrial warehouses the color of old teeth topped in corrugated steel, ripe for clandestine meetings. And tonight Everett would put them to good use. Looking over to his briefcase Everett unlocked the heavy metal clasps that held the case closed to run his fingers over the leather parchment contained within while musing over things that would be missed.

James slid the Lincoln front of the third warehouse in the row just as he had been instructed to do, and just as he had arranged Everett maneuvered out of the car and made his way to the alleyway between the warehouses where the shadow of his associate awaited.

"You're Late." it hissed

"I assure you it couldn't be helped."

The Civic ran against the cold expanse of concrete along the sidewalk at west Arlington street as ambrose scanned the houses and warehouses in north Cicero. West Arlington street was the northern border for the Cicero kindred, and the southern edge of Carthian turf. Technically at least. truth be told the Vampires in Cicero pretty much went where they wanted and the Carthians of oak park tussled with the occasional kindred but usually didn't pay them any mind. As far as the Carthians were concerned the unaligned of the free territory of Cicero were at best nominally anti-establishment, and at worst they at least got out of the way. Ambrose ditched the Car and walked up the street, kilgore in tow behind him. after a couple houses Ambrose walked up to the one on the ID tag.

"Here we go, 1976 West Arlington. Home sweet home." The house looked warm with yellow light escaping through the edges of drawn curtains. Ambrose stood in it for a moment. There was probably a family on the other side of those.Ambrose looked down at the cat but it already padded its way over to the house and went through one of those little cat doors people put in their houses sometimes.

" That's gratitude." Ambrose sneered suddenly angry, he wrapped his arms around himself and felt the animal inside him again. but more than that he felt... hungry. Pulling his coat around himself. Ambrose looked out across the street at the in betweens of the warehouses where the night collected in heavy pockets. He felt them grow closer before he realized that he had already begun walking toward them.

Ambrose strode up to the front of a dirtywhite semi parked half inside one of the warehouses that had a scratched picture of a pinup girl reclining on a big red jellybean painted on its side. he climbed up trucks' grill then quickly up onto the roof of the semi. from that vantage getting onto the COSCO emblazoned trailer then the ware house roof was a simple affair. something that a adventurous or high teenager could manage. When on the roof Ambrose readied the beast to call out to the animals in the area surrounding the warehouses. If he got lucky, he thought to himself, maybe he'd get another cat.

Then he felt a beast. Another like him and its presence sent shots of white hot anger rattling across his bones. Then another just like the first, but only for a moment. he pushed the urge to devour, to tear into the other down into the pit of his stomach. As a Gangrel, sort of, Ambrose had been "gifted" with an undiscerning beast. That is, that some kindred get hardcore hebbie-jeebies when face to face with sombody that coulda been friends of Job. Makes them wanna cut and run from anybody older than them. Not the case with the savages. It takes a little bit more than a couple hundred years to give them the shivering whim- whams. Ambrose pulled himself down against the corrugated steel of the warehouse roof and crawled quickly over to the far edge away from him. Sniffing the air he picked up the scent of a self conscious man's cologne. oh, and blood. Thick cold old blood. blood like his.

Looking over the side, in a parody of a hug, two Kindred were having it out. with the light the way it was Ambrose was having a bit of a time figuring out who was who. There was this near boneless twisting like a snake crushing a mouse and the bastard on the bad end was looking like a squeezed juicebox. Ambrose realized that this wasn't a fight.

In a moment he pumped his legs under him Ambrose jumped down from the roof of the warehouse and hit the ground hard. he came up from a roll with what was probably a nearly broken ankle. Looking out, old glass eyes looked back at him,reflecting the poor evening light, and holding some poor rag doll between his teeth like a wolf with a fresh kill. The meat in his teeth was just that, some meat soon to be nothing more than a memory. The thing circled Ambrose, and Ambrose in turn willed his hands to twist and change, to become tipped with long rending claws. he waited.

While it moved.

Ambrose threw himself to the side of the alley, shoving his arms outward hoping to catch the thing in the guts with his claws if it came too close. Ambrose saw those dolls eyes meet his for a moment then pass him and his hand dug into something, but the bitch of the bunch was the bastard was too fast. Ambrose hit the ground, something heaped on top of him.

He smelled the _blood._ The _blood_ on his _hands_.

Looking down at the thing on him he realized that it had been the ragdoll. Even now the form was curling in on itself. Ambrose pulled out arms that were elbow deep in the thing. There was no doubt that it was dead, finally and forever. Ambrose pushed it off of him then leaned against the warehouse wall, stood up, and ran out the alley into the parking lot.

Two heavy flood lights hit Ambrose in the face like a two by four and he had to cover his eyes.Rolling into the parking lot in a Lifted truck, Leon Faber and his Nosferatu Muscle, Marc Royce pulled off the street and parked with those white brights right at Ambrose.

Faber was the first to get out of the truck. six and a half feet tall, wearing a fitted designer black button up that hugged the near perfect physique of a prize fighter,and raven black hair that was pulled back in a ponytail. his face was the weathered face of a gladiator with a thick nose and a square jaw. He stood straight and looked at Ambrose like an avenging Angel.

Then there was Marc. Marc Royce stood behind Faber about a foot back with his head about a foot higher up. The Nosferatu curse had made Royce look like sin with a heavy underbite and near tusks. He had skin that must've been equal parts skin and sand. Royce had worked at the docks in life and he must've been at least one-and-a-half axe handles wide. He was wearing a dirty white Tank top a set of oversized Camouflage pants, combat boots and a baseball bat.

This pair had to ask Ambrose some questions.

Ambrose, who was five-nine, a buck-sixty-five soaking wet in socks and a smile.

Ambrose who was up to his elbows in kindred blood.

Ambrose the unbound child of the unholy, who nobody would miss if they didn't like the answers they got.

Ambrose began laughing, a sick gravelly laugh.

" I'd be crying right now if this wasn't so Fucking tragic."


End file.
